


Do I Know You?

by NorthoParthae



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Bitters just needs a hug :c, Comfort, Confessions, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fun, Guilt, Hidden Feelings, Humor, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation with imagination gone wrong, Memory Loss, Past Abuse, Self-Hatred, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthoParthae/pseuds/NorthoParthae
Summary: Pessimistic Bitters and Dutiful Matthews knew each other since as far as they could remember but what can they do without each other?





	1. Run Run RUN!

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings. I've noticed that there are a lack of Antoine Bitters/Matthews fanfictions on this site and I thought that my little story can contribute. Feedback and comments are welcome, whether criticism or praise.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

Bitters and Matthews both wondered for a moment, looking forwards briefly, giving it a thought before looking at each other.

“To serve our glorious captains?” Matthews suggested, hinting a slight confusion at the question.

“Wow, you’re such a kiss-ass.” Bitters snorted at his partner. Silence ensued between them again…for a long time…ok, this is getting awkward. It was pure coincidental when a tumbleweed rolled in front of them

“I meant why are we in the middle of the jungle Matthews.” Bitter commented.

“Oooh. Captain Grif said that safeguarding the precious ecosystem of this fragile planet is one of the most important tasks! And I get to be part in it!” Matthew instantly explained. As if he was excitedly waiting for someone to ask him that.

“Wow, he actually said that?” to Bitters’ amazement. Grif wasn’t known for using big words or thoroughly explaining things. He wasn’t even known for explaining anything or appear in front of his men unless he needs a treat on the run, usually Matthews, that guy would do anything for Grif; it was secretly worrying Bitters.

“No, Simmons did; but Captain Grif said to quote him instead.” Matthews explained cheerfully. Of course he did. Bitters’ just rolled his eyes at the comment. A rustling can be heard nearby, it grew slowly as bushes began to shake. Matthews was the first to notice this, slowly holding his gun up as Bitters looked over his shoulder to where he was pointing.

“I think I heard something.” Cautioned Matthews as he treads to the rustling bushes, preparing for what might come out. Bitters crossed his arms, giving him a look of annoyance.

“Dude, I think you’re just going crazy” Bitters looked over his crouching teammate. You see, Bitters was not scared of rustling bushes for 2 reasons: One, he had been rustling bushes between break times since high-school (By himself of course, you think someone like him can get a girl?) and Two, he learned the hard way that rustling bushes meant two horny Lesbians and a backhand to his face from Vera Simpsons. To this day it is rumoured that her hand can still be seen on his face if you squint hard enough.

“Shush! Captain Grif said you can never be too prepared.” Matthews tried to shut his companion as he focused hard at the rifle while pointing it to the bush, finger itching for the trigger. He began to shiver a bit at the sound of a growl from the Bush; his grip on the trigger is slipping with every sweat he had on his face, cowering at the sounds. Meanwhile, Bitters was resting his hands on his hips, thinking why he was partnered up with such a kiss-ass pussy or a pussy-ass…or maybe a kiss-pussy, no, that last one sounded wrong, maybe the second one, nah, it doesn’t have a ring to it, I think I’ll stay with kiss-ass pussy.

The tension between Matthews and the bush grew ever so more by the second while Bitters was yawning in the back, looking down at his non-existent watch as he smacked his lips.

Suddenly, a white figure jumped straight at Matthews, shocking him as he flailed his arms, throwing his gun into the trees, screaming in absolute terror. He could feel it crawling all over his torso, trampling its paws all over his helmet ferociously. Matthews felt trapped, he shuts his eyes as he continues to flail and panic for his life, trying to take the creature off him when his fingers tightly felt the soft fur and flesh of the creature, clawing in revolt. When it finally left him, he could only see a flash of white dashing through his visor before it disappeared back into the bushes. Matthews can hear the laughs of his friend when he was finished.

“Wow, you really are a pussy!” Bitters loudly commented as he laughed hysterically, arching forwards, holding his stomach. Matthews can even see the tears of joy dripping down on Bitters’ visor. Matthews felt humiliated and just sighed. When he got up and dusted most of the dirt from his body, Bitters was still bent over laughing his guts out.

“Alright, let’s get back to work Bitters.” Matthews sighed, searching over the bushes for his rifle as Bitters was slowly choking, in which he stopped and wiped the last tear from his eyes. Bitters took a breath of air before he can even talk, still chuckling while he tried. He looked over Matthews, who was searching all over the area for his firearm.

“You know. In the movies, after a scene like that they would-” Bitters’ words are cut short as the ground began to tremble. Tiny rocks began to vibrate and soon they were literally bouncing off the ground with each step. Bitters were feeling worse with each booming sound approaching. Then there was nothing. Not a sound. The sounds of crickets and avian creatures in the dense jungle suddenly ceased.

“D-dude. I think we should-”

“Not now Bitters. I gotta find my guuuuuu…” Matthews trailed as he looked up, his face being inches away from a bear. They were both cowering over the gargantuan figure, standing over them. It was so tall that it enveloped them in the bear’s shadow. Matthews eyes dilated mad and a single sweat was over his forehead as a chill went down his spine. He felt like breaking down just by staring at the crimson eyes of the mammal.

“M-maybe if you don’t move, they won’t know that you’re alive.” Bitters whispered very quietly as he held his hands to his chest, slowly backing away. Matthews gulped. He tried whispering himself words of confidence as he stared at the bear. Maybe Bitters’ right, maybe if I don’t move he’ll think I’m not alive. Even with that, he still didn’t have any confidence that he might be alive or in one piece after this ordeal.

“Bitters, I-I don’t think th-this is working.” Stuttered Matthews as he tried to lean back, taking a glimpse at Bitters but when he looked, he didn’t see him. Confused at first, he saw a small whitish-orange figure running along the path behind him. Matthews sighed. Well, at least things can’t get worse than this can it?

**RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOR!**

Nope. Nopenopenopenope. Matthews ran as fast as he can. The bear roared excessively, pawing the soft ground and going on all fours at full capacity, trying to chase its unfateful prey. Matthews ran and ran and ran, until he can feel his feet burning and his body drenched in sweat and worry, his thoughts are a mess of sadness that made him want to stop and cry and his anger that his friend betrayed him that made him ran faster and faster. Deep breaths. That was what Agent Washington taught him when running, but his lungs ache and sore each time he even manages to breathe. The forest echoes his scream of anguish and the roars of the monolithic mammal; he swore it could be heard from miles. His vision became dark, his body felt tense and muscles began cramping. Slowly, he heard the animal sounds that seems to get closer and closer then nothing.

Nothing but darkness.


	2. Wait He What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, when Doc is speaking, the bold words indicate that O'Malley is speaking.

_Matthews… Matthews…be a good boy Matthews…_

“Ouuuugh…” Matthews’ head hurts like hell; his vision was blurry and dark. He could make out a figure, maybe even two, but he couldn’t see them, his vision was getting more and more blur. He tried opening his mouth but his jaw feels non-existent, he couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, a loud shriek can be heard, screams. Screams from all directions, it was making him mad, it kept calling his name, whispering his darkest secrets, insulting him to the brink of tears. He can’t stand it. Not at all. Then, everything went black again but then he heard a voice. It was soft, unlike the screams. It beckons him to follow it.

_You’re almost there Matthews…_

The voice kept calling his name, urging him to follow its voice, into the light, away from the darkness, away from the punishing silence and tormenting screams.

_Remember me Matthews…_

The voice trailed off as the light came closer and closer. Suddenly, he can here another voice on the other side. A one he heard before, but from where?

**…**

Bitters was just outside the operating room in the infirmary. He was sitting on a plastic chair all by himself, his palms on his face. A part of him wanted to cry but a part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to dash into the operating room any second now. He can’t wait any longer; he didn’t want to wait all of this for just Dr. Grey say “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He took some deep breaths, taking off his helmet so he can breathe the air more easily, placing his helmet on the seat next to him. He closed his eyes to try and calm down, clearing his chaotic mind. He could really go for some booze now but that would probably fuck him more.

Captain Tucker and Captain Grif were the first to arrive after hearing the news. Bitters didn’t noticed them until Grif held on his shoulder, his eyes looking down. Bitters produce a small absurd chuckle, looking at his captains.

“Give me a break here guys. I think I’m done with the emotional bull crap.” Bitters growled in a creaky and broken voice. Tucker and Grif were shocked at the response, they looked at each other before looking back at Bitters.

“Hold up. Dude’s already dead?” Tucker questioned. They didn’t know it was too late, it was so quick too.

“Probably.” Bitters responded while producing another grim chuckle, “He’s been there for an hour now. The medics say his chances are slim. ”

He placed his hands over his face again, making a deep sigh. Grif looked over to Bitters and took off his helmet, Tucker followed to as they mourn in silence. It was dead quiet that day, the only sounds were the voices of frantic medics in and out of the infirmary and the horrifying screeching of machinery. If you listen very carefully though you can hear the faint sound of the heart rate monitor going: _beep…beep…beep…_

It’s gruelling waiting for that sound to just end at any moment, he wouldn’t know what he would do without him. Matthews was always there for him. He remembered when they were kids; he was the only one who came to his birthday party when no one would. When they were in high-school he was the only friend he had that helped him stepped out of the dark times when his mother died. He always hated Matthews for the suck-up he was, a snitch to the teachers when they were kids. But now, it’s as if he can’t continue living normally without his bud by his side…and now he remembered all the times he wished him to be gone and can’t stand the idiocy after all these years.

Tears had begun to swell in his face; he grinds his fists into his eyes in retaliation. Matthews was always there for him, so why wasn’t he there when he needed him the most. He ran away like a coward, a selfish lazy coward. He didn’t deserve someone like Matthews.

“You okay Bitters?” Grif tried to assure himself. He looked at Bitters’ eyes and a sharp sensation from his spine can be felt.

“He was there for me…he always had…a-and now he dies because of me?! Because I-I wasn’t there?!”  Bitters shouted, flinching his Captains and prompted Tucker to back away at the emotional mess he was. Bitters start to hold his hair, tightly pulling as his arms and body starts to shiver.

“I was supposed to be there! I was supposed to help him! No one deserved what he’s going through unless it’s ME! Matthews suffered enough of my bitching and now this?! THIS?!” Bitters yelled. Tears streaming through his face as his face redden. His scalp can be seen slightly bleeding from the hands pulling it apart. He deserved it. He deserved all the pain, all the suffering, but Matthews didn’t, he never did wrong, He never turned the failure he was to his father, He never was the lazy dickhead in the squad, but most of all, he wasn’t the worst friend in the goddamn galaxy.

Then, the doors opened. Dr. Grey was standing in front of them with a clipboard and a surgical face-mask. Bitters was the first to stand up. He sloppily tried to wipe his tears but he was still crying through the ordeal. Dr. Grey shot him a serious look, staring right at the eye. He knew this moment had to come sooner or later but he didn’t expected this abrupt.

“Gentlemen…the operation was a complete success! Yes!”

Bitters instantly was surged with mixed emotions: Happiness, Confusion, Shock, to name a few. He instantly light up like a lightbulb, can’t believe in what just happened to him. Tucker and Grif stood up cautiously, giving each other a raised eyebrow before looking at Dr. Grey confused as ever and Tucker had an Alien-Human hybrid offspring.

“B-but how?” Bitters meekly asked, being physically and emotionally exhausted as his red eyes lock on Dr.Grey. Dr. Grey just laughed loudly before realizing everyone was serious and did a fake cough.

“Well. You shouldn’t really thank me. When scientific treatment didn’t work, Doc showed me his alternative medicinal techniques, it was surprisingly effective.” Grey explained cheerfully. You can see Doc tried to make a run at the only exit of the room but Grey caught his collar, pulling him to her as he looked really uncomfortable. He was making out silent words from his mouth saying “HELP ME”

“Go on Frank, tell them what you did to Matthews.” She said still clinging onto his collar. Tucker gave Doc a ‘really?’ look but it only made Doc more panicky.

“I-I just rubbed some Aloe Vera on his neck.” Doc swiftly said, nervously stuttering, “Can I go now?”

Grey was about to let Doc go but then she heard a long shriek down the hall that shivers everyone’s spine before a medic calling her name in terror. Tucker was practically hiding behind Grif when that happened.

“Looks like someone needs a new robotic arm~” Grey tuned out, saying the sentence like a song, She closed in on Doc’s bare face with a smug look, terrifying the smaller man, “Don’t forget our little arrangement Frankie-dear”

With that she skipped along the hallway beaming with cheer and albeit psychopathy, like she always does. Tucker and Grif looked around for Bitters, they were sure he was here a minute ago.

“I think I saw him go in to check with his buddy.” Doc commented, “You know, I feel bad for the orange guy. I could hear what he said from the operating room. **Sucks to be him.** O’Malley, be nice.”

Doc expected a response from his two old buddies (except for Grif, he was still holding a grudge for teleporting him away for 2 Seasons) but was met with judging glares and intense awkwardness.

After some time, Tucker finally decides to break the ice, “You know, I never thought that two psychopaths can get it on.”

“No. Nonononono. That woman is a freak! I’m telling you guys she’s obsessed with me. Not even O’Malley likes her. **Yeah she’s totally bonkers.** I know right? **I’d have more fun decapitating her than you trashbags.** Okay that one was too far.” Doc tried to plead his case. In any situation, he feels like the victim here. Dr. Grey did seem a little brighter today, it’s either that or they’ve finally fix the lights in the infirmary.

“Really? Cus I thought you two would be a match made in heaven. I mean, you both like the same stuff like medical equipment, alien artefacts and torturing your enemies as they bleed to death on an operating table.” Tucker commented with one eyebrow up.

“For the last time guys. I don’t like her, she’s psycho! **I didn’t mind her at first.** Shut up you. **I own this body too asswipe.** ” Doc tried to clarify, looking a bit flustered as his cheeks becomes redder. Tucker and Grif looked at each other, crossing their arms while putting on a smug face. They were literally being children in a playground by now.

Suddenly a medic ran up to Doc, holding a notepad.

“We’ve got an injured soldier right on the emergency wing Doc.” She informed, looking slightly out of breath.

“Well that’s my call. See you guys later at lunch time.” And with that Doc followed the hasty medic down the halls. It wasn’t much longer before someone screamed ‘Ow! The back of my back!’ and another voice going ‘Sorry, that wasn’t Aloe Vera.’

“You wanna head back and see what Simmons is up to?” Grif suggested after everyone had left for their duties.

“Meh, why not.” Tucker shrugged, giving a reluctant response as he walked with the orange soldier to their location.

“Also, what’s with the clipboards? Everyone seems to be holding one in the infirmary.” Grif commented before they left the Infirmary, starting some normal conversation for once.


	3. Do I Know You?

Bitters were on his knees, he was watching over his friend in the hospital bed. Matthews had been sleeping peacefully all this time; his forehead was wrapped in bandages while an IV tube can be seen on his left arm. Unlike what Bitters was expecting, there weren’t any tubes going into Matthews’ body or any horrid machines like that but he did noticed his new robotic left leg, all shiny and metallic-looking.

Bitters was holding Matthews’ hand all the time, feeling his pulse through the veins, making sure that Matthews was okay. He had almost fell asleep waiting for Matthews to wake up but the calm and gentle expression Matthews had on his face kept him up. Bitters always thought Matthews had a charming face. The short brown spiky hair, his short adorable nose, it’s odd how he never really noticed all of this until now, even the subtle freckles on his cheeks. Matthews was a handsome guy but he was never very successful with girls. As far as he knew, Matthews wasn’t the type of guy who likes to party or pass out at bars, nah that was clearly Palomo. Matthews wasn’t exactly a bookworm either, or a sports player, he was just…Matthews.

Bitters were distracted by the sound of the room’s door opening, diverting his attention to his friends entering the room. Palomo, Jensen and Andersmith was still in their armour when they entered.

“We came as fast as we could. Whew. How’s Matthews?” Palomo asked, gasping for air. Bowing down and seemed out of breath. Bitters sighed in relief, most of the group relaxed at the simple response.

“Great. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t see him in the morning” Palomo added. The others nodded in response and Bitters just sighed, diverting his gaze back to Matthews as his other friends watched awkwardly in the room, you know, just there, standing.

“Yeah, he was the only one who can actually make a killer plate of pancakes.” Andersmith commented, earning him an elbow to his sides from Jensen, who eyes him with anger afterwards whispering ‘act nice’. Bitters just ignored the comment and continued to gaze at his friend. Then Palomo set a cough.

“Um. Should we leave you two together?” Palomo inquired, scratching the back of his helmet. Jensen elbowed his side too, earning a chuckle from Andersmith before he got another jab on his rib cage. Both men were terrified of to say anything now, trying to rub their pain away.

Bitters stared sternly at his friends, “Palomo, we’re not gay.”

“Woah there dude, I never asked.” Palomo stated almost instantly. Andersmith slowly backed away, Jensen coughed and followed. Realizing the situation, Palomo did the same with his hands above his chest.

“Whatever dude.” Bitters whined. His friends were kinda weird like that. They all soon left the room to their ‘duties’ but Bitters was smart enough to know that it was Sunday.

He heard something. A voice. Bitters sparked up immediately. He stood up as he looked at Matthews, his eyes were partially open and his face was twitching. He was growling as he weakly tried to move his arms, shaking his head.

“Matthews! Matthews! Are you there?” Bitters said, causing Matthews to groan even more. Matthews got one hand on his bandaged forehead, rubbing at the pulsing pain; the sensation was like a screwdriver in your head. Bitters helped him to sit up-right on the bed, which by now he was tying adjust to the bright lights. He tried to open his mouth but it was dry and sore, he was too exhausted after the operation to try and speak.

“H-Hey Are you alright?! ” Bitters almost shouted. A part of him was delightfully excited that his friend was finally conscious, another regrets him remembering how he abandoned Matthews alone. He waves his fingers in front of Matthews, trying to grab his attention.

“Dude it’s me! Bitters!” He looked directly at Matthews, grinning widely at his friend but Matthews didn’t respond, he was just…idle. He didn’t look happy or angry or sad, in fact he looked confused. Matthews looked at Bitters as if he was some sort of undiscovered creature. Matthews tilted his head while narrowing his eyes, trying to get a better look at the man. Finally, he spoke.

“Do I know you?”


	4. Accepted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be smut. It is near the end so you can skip it but its (I think) going to tell a lot about Bitters and his past.
> 
> Note: A lone triple dot (...) means that its transitioning to a scene that happens in the same time but in a different location

“Shut it old man.”

_*click*_

“Oh bother! I employed you! You would be nothing without me!”

_*clack*_

“Keep yappin’ and I’ll be sure to let the warden shut it Chairman.”

_*click*_

“You little-! fine. It was mistake hiring you anyways.”

_*clack*_

“And what’re you going to do about that huh?”

_*Ka-chink*_

“Hey what the? Sir this is a classified military-ack!”

The guard struggles, large metallic hands crushing his throat, it was only a few seconds before it was pushed hard enough. A simple crack and he’s gone. The prisoner cowered, not knowing what he just witnessed. Upon getting closer its face became clear, Malcolm Hargrove, the once admired and philanthropic Chairman of the UNSC, thrown in the cells he built, shamed by people he put in power, his efforts, his reputation, his everything perished in the transmission of just one message. One. That is, at the hands of the simulation troops, a blundering ragtag crew of mistakes were able to take down one of the most or perhaps THE most powerful person in the Galaxy.

His rage is imperishable. Although he could not act being a mere convict, he did receive help from a very old… acquaintance. To call him a friend was very much over the line, even acquaintance was too kind.

The Chairman cowered as the figure pried his bars open with ease, the large metallic claws reaching his collar, pulling him outside, staring at the face of the figure. Only it wasn’t a face, it was a screen.

“You? W-Why would you be here?” Hargrove asked perplexed. He recognizes the face on the blue screen. They rarely ever met but the fact that _he’s_ alive is more shocking than ever.

“I’m afraid we do not have time to explain Chairman Hargrove. We must evacuate the premises immediately before they activate the fail-safe.”

The metallic figure held Hargrove in his palm, scrunching it to a fist. Naturally, screams and pounding can be heard from inside, demanding to be let out. Despite the disagreement, the figure did not react. It ran and ran through the compound as its feet clanks loudly through the iron floors. At the entrance, the alarm began to ring. Red flashing lights emerge from the ceiling, the compound was in lockdown. Troops began to arrive at the entrance, flooding in the dark red-flashing hall, cocking their rifles and pointing it at the android.

The robot stopped, head facing down and its body seem lifeless. Soon, the emergency mechanics kicked in and the door behind them closed shut, the entrance in front of them too. Thick steel doors smashed each other one after the other, locking the hallway absolutely.

“Put your hands up!” one of the soldiers shouted across. No response.

“I said put your fucking hands up!” He shouted again, this time they were pointing their laser sights directly of its torso, showing that they were not messing around.

“Do you know difference between courage and stupidity captain.” A low-pitched distorted voice came out.

The troops were baffled, turning to one another and shaking heads until the captain shouted for silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“Courage is the voice that tells you that you can defy the odds.” The voice emerged again, going lower and lower. The troops start to take a step back, preparing for the worse. A few gulped, a few were breath heavily but whatever they’re pointing their rifles at, it’s certainly not human.

“Stupidity is when you follow it.” The figure growled, revealing the screen has turned red as it stared at its prey.

Meanwhile outside, two soldiers were guarding the entrance. They were waiting for further reinforcements, standing in the howling snow. The doors were triple-layered with steel and iron, it was completely soundproof…or so they thought. At first they thought it was the battle inside but as they kept on listening, it wasn’t gunfire or explosions. It was screams. Screams. They could not hear anything else other than the vague sound of their squadron inside. Suddenly, it came to a stop. There was no sound, there was no screaming. One of them laid his ear on the cold metallic door: _tick, tock, tick, tock, tick._

**…**

“Are you sure he’s okay?” 

“Of course! This is a completely natural reaction to a permanent robotic lobotomy of the Temporal Lobe” Grey cheered while she notes possible medical illnesses on her notepad. Drawing hearts on all the ‘i’s as she was clueless at the disturbed pair staring at her.

“You. Did. What.” Bitters stated each word carefully, increasing his volume. His popping eyes could strangle that demented doctor for what she did to Matthews. Saving a life is one thing, but if he can’t remember who the hell is his friend for 17 years because his brain was cut in half, that’s an issue. A really fucked up issue.

“Well…I did have to replace the amygdala and hippocampus with android counterparts to prevent systemic infection. After all, we wouldn’t want the undead roaming again would we?” Grey giggled while Bittershoped it was a joke. Suddenly, she noticed a beeping sound from her wrist watch.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She stated plainly before taking off. Matthews and

Bitters paused, staring awkwardly, “So…You wanna-”

“WE BROUGHT COOKIES!” A voice pierced through the room. Crash! The ward door splintered all over the floor, leaving a dust trail. Everyone in the room choked a bit until the dust. The irritated Bitters tried to waft it away. What could it be now?

“Knock knock.” A familiar cobalt-coloured combatant emerged with a tray of uh…mashed up cooking dough? Visibly sprinkled with a (shit) load of wooden splinters and sawdust.

“You’re supposed to say knock knock before you enter Caboose, not after it.” A pink helmet popped from behind Caboose. Donut stepped away, revealing that he was also holding a tray. Only his was instead pink and in the shape of hearts.

“I was about to but then I got really excited. I can’t control myself when I’m excited.” Caboose explains plainly, stuttering at the start, “And nothing gets me more excited than helping people that is not Tucker!”

“D-Do I know you guys?” Matthews croaked, seemingly curious at Caboose and Donut as he placed a finger in his lips. He can hear Bitters’ facepalm as he sighed heavily at the sight.

“Actually, I don’t think we’ve met.” Donut stated, putting the tray away, ”My name’s Donut, its spelt D-O-N-U-T not Doughnut.”

“And I’m Michael J. Caboose! Church’s best friend! But you can just call me Caboose.” Caboose introduced, shaking Matthews’ limp hand. Matthews looked over to Bitters for some guidance, silently asking if he knew about these people just by his curious eyes.

“They’re your captains. The lightish-red one is in charge of the armory, the blue one is uh…field leader?” Bitters cleared as he leant over the hospital beds’ railings, leaning closer to Matthews. The duo brought their cookies over to Matthews, offering them to the patient. Matthews almost choked on Caboose’s raw sawdust-covered dough but he didn’t seem to mind Donut’s pink heart cookies. They watched as Matthews devoured them quickly in front of them; Matthews didn’t even know he was speed-eating, even downing Caboose’s ‘cookies’. He returned the trays back to the two men in armor, looking at them still with little wariness.

“Well uh…thanks for cookies?” Matthews thanked nervously, not knowing what else to say.

“No problem uh…sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Donut said.

“It’s….” He struggled to respond for a moment, looking at Bitters,”Matthews?”

Bitters nodded at him

“Bye Matthews! We have to go to do some super-secret military stuff now.” Caboose started to whisper, baffling Matthews and Bitters since he’s clearly just talking with a raspy voice.

“I’m whispering because it’s really really secret.” The Blue soldier slowly backed away until he was gone from sight. Bitters sighed in relief that they’re gone. He never thought highly of his captains, especially the cerulean airhead or the orange rock. He really could use a smoke right now but the hospital would never allow it, besides, Matthews was here and even though he probably won’t stop him like his past self, it still feels unnatural and bizarre.

“So, you said you’re supposed to be my friend?” Matthews asked Bitters, snapping his train of thought. Bitters looked over to the puzzled man.

“Supposed? I was always your friend.” He tried to smile as he hopped on the bed. He was never really his friend.

“Can you…maybe tell me something about myself? How I was or what I did?” Matthews asked plainly, feeling his numb bandaged forehead. Bitters looked up for a minute. Well, Matthews was always…a suck-up, a party pooper, a blind follower. Not exactly a fun guy to hang around with in his opinion but they always had their way. It was a full minute before Bitters started to hesitate. There must be something nice about Matthews, even if he wasn’t a fun guy, he was pretty loyal.

“Um, well, dedicated, nice, uh, humble maybe?” Bitters suggested, kinda feeling lost himself while he try harder to not shout out ‘cunt’ in front of his face.

“A little specific?” Matthews tilted his head slightly as he was trying to get a grip on his forgotten persona. Bitters looked upwards again, putting his hand on his chin. He reached out their old memories, what was _he_ like back then? Shy, kinda dorky, responsible perhaps?

“Well, you were…good. A bit shy I guess. You know; the kinda guy that gets along with the team.” Bitters responded unsurely. He scratched the back of his head, giving an awkward chuckle. Matthews chuckled too, I guess just to be polite.

“I guess I’ll learn in time.” Matthews joked, enjoying the atmosphere. The two lounged and joked around with each other for the rest of the day. It was nice to have someone he can talk to once in a while; it lets him be more…himself. Before then Bitters always felt alone, his comrades would treat him like their own but Bitters never really felt he could fit in, well, anything; and he sure as hell hoped that this didn’t help create his anti-social behaviour because he’s already bored with all the depressive bullcrap. Although, he was a bit ashamed that he now wanted for Matthews to fall and bash his skull in, because his new friend sure as hell was much cooler than Matthews ever could be. It was almost nightfall when he realized that he had to go. Saying a quick goodbye, he promised to return again tomorrow, provided a giant space bear didn’t try to maul him to death.

When he reached the quarters, he found that most of his squad was just getting ready for bed. Since they were a military unit, they all lived and sleep under the same roof, which was painstakingly hard to live in with very little privacy. There were two bunk beds on each side of the room, the one on the left belongs to Bitters and Smith while the one on the right belonged to Jensen and Palomo; other than that, there was a small desk facing directly opposite of the exit and a wooden door next to the desk to the bathroom. Smith was nowhere to be seen, probably in the bathroom, while Jensen and Palomo were on their phones, probably texting each other. The scratched metallic floor and grey standard-issued iron walls just makes the place more like a slum compared to the infirmary wards.

“Took ya awhile. Where’ve you been?” Palomo questioned with an eyebrow, looking over to Bitters as he entered the room.

“Visiting Matthews.” Bitters responded quickly, slumping over to his bed. He moved himself to the edge of the bed and took out a set of green long pants and plain white t-shirt, it was military standard sleeping attire but he couldn’t bother looking for his own clothes after what happened today, he really couldn’t be bothered to complain about it. Smith came out of the bathroom a few seconds later with a towel on his neck as he was drying his hair. Bitters passed a casual ‘hey’ before shutting the wooden door. Making sure he locked it twice, he began to strip, placing his armor on one side of the tiny bathroom and tossing his black undergarments to the other side of the room. He yawned. Bitters had a rough day, watching his friend almost die and what not, the least he could have is a well-deserved hot shower.

Bitters checked himself out on the mirror behind him, inspecting his body carefully. He was tall for where he came from (1.86m), only Smith was taller but that’s because of his genetics and all that sciency stuff he never bothered at school. His skin was pale and stubble was forming slightly on his chin. He had a lithe body, surprising for his daily activities, but lacked the big guns his squad had. At least his arms seemed to have more muscle than last time. His hair was getting a bit too long though, his punk-style haircut can be problematic sometimes. Finally he looked down and his hands reached his cock (Its Uncut 6.2 Inches for reference). It stunned him on how hard he just got, stroking his finger on the sensitive tip, shuddering at the touch. He sighed; did he really just got hard thinking about himself? Heh, what a narcissist, better just shower and get this over with before things get even more downhill.

He twisted the handle of the shower, letting the hot water soak him. He panted under the hot water, it felt so nice and soothing on his chest, trailing down his stomach to his thighs. He could feel water touching his fully erect cock now, sighing as he looked down. It was so hot, so nice. Bitters placed his palm under his cock, caressing it gently under the dripping water as he jolts and shudders at the addictive pleasure that comes from his sensitive cock. Grabbing it firmly, he began to stroke it gently. He wanted this. No. He deserved this.

Stroking it at full speed immediately, he was driven by the overwhelming lust immediatey. His penis being punished with an overwhelming sense of pleasure with each stroke and he couldn’t stop, it just felt so good. Closing his eyes he tried to imagine what he wanted most, his desire…but desire comes in different forms.

He almost choked when he saw Matthews, his ass being fucked hard, his hole quivered as Bitters’ cock thrusted over and over into the virgin ass. He can just feel the pulsating savoury ass in his hands. Bitters’ groans became more louder and he begins to thrust into his hand, erratic noises began to emerge with each trickle of water on his member or in his other sensitive areas, specifically his nipples. He imagined Matthews enjoying the moment with endless bliss and pain as Bitters’ hard cock ram inside him over and over, getting a sharp moan from his partner each time. Matthews’ hands were cuffed behind his back and his face was distorted with intense pleasure, pain and fear.

“Please _*pant*_ Please no more. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop!” He kept pleading in distress to a point that he begins to tear up. Bitters’ mind was filled with rage, he remembered how much of a smart-ass and a thorn in his back he was, all that hatred building up over the years, telling him what to do, telling him what he cannot do, telling him how he was displeasing the superior captains. All those bickering and annoying voice filled his head, who the hell does he think he is. Well now, _he_ was the superior here and he’ll do whatever the fuck he wants with this handsome lad.

“You like that huh?! You dirty slut! I’m the superior here now! Now moan for me!”

But damn. Matthews was hot. His body was lean and toned, those abs get him so riled up. Bitters tightened his closed eyes as he begins to hallucinate Matthews’ body parts. He had _such_ a cute face, he was jealous of it because he never got to abuse that mouth of his, his dark brown eyes and that adorable brown short cut just made him more and more horny. He can hear Matthews’ painful screams but that red face of his just moans for more. He waited so long for this and now he can finally get back after all those years.

“Antoine please! No more! It hurts! Please!” Matthews kept on shouting, face full of tears now. Bitters was getting close, he was annoyed by the constant bitching his friend kept making and decided to pull his hair from behind as he climaxed, pummelling the sore ass even harder, crushing Matthews’ poor overworked prostate. Bitters shouted as he came inside him, Matthews’ just moaned louder, releasing his load as well as the poor guy whimpers and shudders.

He began to calm down, then Bitters opened his eyes. He was still in the showers, the warm water started turning cold. He looked around. No Matthews. He looked at the wall in front of him; there was globs of his semen on it, being slowly washed by the water. He stared at his hands in disbelief before looking down at his flaccid cock. He broke down. Collapsing onto the floor, he curled in, putting his hands over his face. He was a horrible person. How could he do that? How could he even imagine that? Brought by shock and disbelief, he began to weep, whimpering quietly. He hated himself for it but at the same time he hated _him_. All this anger, all these desires, he couldn’t control them. He loved him. He hated him. He doesn’t know what to feel.

He got up and started cleaning himself, trying to get rid of those horrid thoughts as he sulked in the pouring water. When he was done he began drying himself with a towel. Noticing his figure back in the mirror, he stared at his face intensely, filled with angst and guilt. He hated this person. This figure in the mirror. He hated his reflection, he hated what has become to him, he hated himself for being like this but most of all…he hated himself for loving/hating Matthews. Conflicted between two of the strongest emotions in his being, he could never decide. He wanted for all of this to be a dream, a façade, whatever it is, to just end. All he wants now is to let Matthews forgive him for what he did and maybe, just maybe, they can share a life together, one where they don’t fight, don’t shout at each other, one where he can finally be…accepted.

Bitters slide his fingers into his hair while taking a deep breath. Accepted. That was the only thing he ever craves in his life; to be able to sit in a dinner table with a family, to be able to walk in school without being an outcast, to smile. Even just for once. But all this abuse, all those words thrown at him, had turned him into a hideous beast. A beast that was unable to feel joy, satisfaction, generosity, sincereness, amusement, all these good things in life; so he directed all that hate and negativity to those around him and now he had done it to the only person that might’ve cared for him. But now Matthews can’t even remember his name nor what he looked like. He just now hopes that someone will be there, to pull him out of the darkness.

Exhaling calmly, he quickly wore his shirt and pants. He slowly opened the door, revealing the darkness of the room. He can see Palomo and Jensen cuddling together on the bottom part of their bunk bed, they were both knocked out already. Smith’s figure can be seen on the top part of his Bunk Bed, one arm hanging off the bed as he dozed. Bitters closed the door quietly, trying not to wake anyone, proceeding to plop down onto his bed exhausted; covering himself in his blanket as he faced the wall, he doesn’t want anyone to look at him after that ordeal.

And maybe,

Tomorrow is the day he can finally be accepted.


	5. I've Not Forgotten

_*Knock Knock*_

“Go away…” Bitters groaned as he covered his face with a pillow, trying to block out the repetitive knocking on the door.

_*Knock Knock*_

It sounded louder than before. Bitters growled at the annoying noise and tried to hold the pillow harder. But it kept on continuing. Bitters growled louder at the door, prompting it to stop. He sighed. Finally he can go back to sleep.

“Hey Bitters! Agent Washington called me to check on you! Are you okay?! ” Bitters could hear the faint sound of someone by the door. Andersmith. He turned and toss, trying to re-arrange his position to something more comfortable as he tried his hardest to close his eyes.

“Fuck off Smith.” He plainly replied, trying to pull his blankets. God he hated Mondays.

There was a moment of hesitation before Smith replied back, this time accompanied with another knock.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A concerned voice appeared.

Bitters frozed. Shit. He didn’t cry that loud did he? He rose up slowly, wiping some gunk off his eye before taking a deep breath. A sharp pain can be felt in his head followed by a nauseous feeling, making Bitters stumble over the door, yawning quietly, and opened it slowly as he hold on to the handle. Smith was standing there in his full armor but despite that he backed away a bit when he saw Bitters.

“Woah. You really need to talk.” Smith responded seriously, inspecting Bitters’ horrible state. His eyes were red and strained with visible bags under them. His shirt had stains on them and his hair was messier than usual, as if someone had clawed over them. To make it worse, he was shivering and his skin has gone really pale.

“Haha…” Bitters responded weakly, giving an awry smile for a second before both of them entered the room, Bitters clumsily falling onto his bed, head first into the pillow. Bitters flipped himself, looking at down at his feet where Smith was sitting idly at the edge of his bed. Smith took off his helmet immediately, feeling quite choked in wearing a full armor in such small space. He glared over to Bitters who suddenly broke eye contact and threw his head back, producing a small ‘umpf’ from the bed itself.

“So…what’s the problem Bitters?” Smith’s face turned intense all of a sudden, trying to connect with his insomniac teammate but Bitters just sighed reluctantly while placing a hand over his eyes.

Bitters paused to think. Did he really want this? Would Smith even care? Why would he tell him about his stupid feelings? Bitters sighed as he lifted his arm to get a glimpse at Smith. He was fiddling with his thumbs, probably occupying himself. What made him care? Smith never talked to him, he gives some order in their sleeping quarters but that just made him like a Matthews 2.0. A chill came running down his spine when he said Matthews, he sighed again. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Matthews at this moment.

Suddenly, Smith stood up, dusting his shoulder pads. Bitters’ face changed as Smith stood. He tried to say something to make him stay but nothing came out. Why did he want him to stay? Why did he care? Questions began to contradict in his mind. He felt empty. He felt desperate, for what? For help? He was dazed for a moment, not knowing why his mood swinged so much when Smith tried to leave. _I deserve it_ , a voice cracked in his mind.

“N-no. Wait-” Bitters spluttered, putting his hand out swiftly to grab Smith, attempting to grab his attention. He needed help. Really bad. Bitters was paralyzed; he doesn’t know what to do. He wanted help; he wanted to break free from his bitter cycle of depression and anger. But. This is life. Life always tested Bitters, beating his body, abusing his emotions; this is life as he know it and to let his guard down, his asshole personality, is to show weakness. And he will never show weakness in front of life, not anymore; because life will try to soften him: give him comfort, give him joy, give him love, all so life can take it all away and watch him suffer. Again and again and again until he learned that life has no love, it has no joy, it has no love, only fuck-ups like him.

“You clearly don’t want to talk about it. It’s fine. It’s not my business anyways.” Smith coldly cut-off as he walked to the door. Smith didn’t want to push Bitters, that’s not like him. To his surprise though, he heard a chuckle.

“I deserve it…” Bitters voice creaked quietly, his voice seemed shaky but Bitters’ mouth seemed smiling, a forced smile. He doesn’t need help. He’s Antoine Bitters; this is how his life works. It’ll be over soon and he’ll be back to normal. He can laze around all day and complain at his teammates. This is what he wanted…right?

”I deserve it…” He kept repeating quietly. Smith turned around, walking slowly until he sat on the edge of the bed, this time closer to Bitters. He could see Bitters’ hands were trembling and his awry smile began to turn into a frown. His laughter turned into chokes. Smith held Bitters’ hand, bringing it slowly from Bitters’ face into his. He can see Bitters’ was crying now, tears were dripping down from his closed eyes and he starts to wail in sadness. Smith was struck by it; he never saw Bitters cry, not even a sign of weakness. Bitters was always the lazy and pessimistic one in the group and at most he would seemed annoyed and angry. He was known for his short temper and harsh attitude, especially around Matthews, but Smith never thought Bitters would be so emotionally distraught.

“Bitters. Talk to me.” Smith commanded. He placed his hands firmly over Bitters’ face, directing it so he can only see his face. Smith’s eyes began to water, he was worried about Bitters by now and he had always promised to take care of them when he was Captain (before the simulation troops came to Chorus, he was their acting leader) even if Bitters was never cooperative, or just an asshole in their life but he still cared about every one of them. It was more than an order given years ago to take care of his squad, it was a promise.

“I-I-I shoved him away.” Bitters stuttered as he thought of Matthews once more, tears were now flowing freely, “I-I yelled at him.”

Smith stayed quiet, knowing there’s more to the story.

“M-my father…” Bitters body trembled once more. He remembered when he was young. The smell of alcohol, the sight of blood, the sound of the belt, he was too young; he couldn’t understand what he did wrong. It wasn’t me that mother left right?

“T-the kids…” Bitters manage to squeeze out while he was in a foetal position. All the memories of the children, his classmates, every day, for all those gruelling years. He remembered their cruel laughter, their pointing fingers. Everywhere. They were everywhere, why couldn’t they leave me alone?! What is wrong with me?!

“W-Why! Why did they all hate me?! W-What did I do wrong?! W-What am I?!” Bitters yelled out incoherently as he struggles to get all the words out. He grabbed his hair, trying to pull it as hard as he can to end this horror.

“A failure!” His father shouted.

“A freak!” The children yelled.

“A monster!” Bitters cried.

All the hidden memories came striking at once, attacking his poor sanity, unleashing all his wrongs, mocking him, kicking him down. He flashbacked to all the horrible moments in his life, lost in the nightmare he could not move on from.

Unknowingly, he felt a hand grabbing onto his shoulder. He looked over and saw Smith. His face was solemn as he pulled Bitters to him. At first he was dazed but then he realized Smith was there to give him a hug. He clenched his fists around the giant man as he sobbed; trying to get out the words he wanted but ended up choking on them.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Smith whispered gently, patting Bitters’ back to try and calm him down. Once Bitters’ wails and stutter began to fade, he faintly smiled and exhaled in relief. There was silence between both of them for a while, Bitters’ head hanging over Smith’s shoulders and Bitters’ hands were still clinging onto him. Slowly, he waited, until he heard snoring from one of his ear. He chuckled a bit, placing Bitters softly on his own bed.

Smith tried to evaluate what had happened in his mind; it was a lot to process. He never knew Bitters was always so troubled, maybe that’s why he’s always grumpy? Also, what in the world am I going to tell Agent Washington? Or even the squad?

He stood up and took his helmet resting on one leg of the bunk bed. Smith gazed back at Bitters one last time before he leaves, watching as the young man slept so calmly amidst the storm he just stirred up. Smith smiled. It’s like taking care of a younger brother.

Inspecting the room one last time he put on his helmet and exited as quietly as he could, closing the door.

Bitters was never loved and never thought could be loved but maybe for once he was right. Maybe today is the day he can finally be accepted.

**…**

“Hello. Welcome back Chairman. It has been awhile since our last formal meeting. Is that correct?”

Hargrove groaned as he tried to stand. He opened his eyes and he saw…him? He inspected the room around him. It was one of his vessels; he recognize by the interior structure that it was the medical bay of one of his ships – UNSC Cronus model perhaps. He stared directly at the figure standing in front of him, hands behind his back as his emotionless face stared back.

“Who are you?” Hargrove questioned in his demanding tone.

“Allow me to introduce myself Chairman. My name is Counsellor Aiden Price. You may call me as the Counsellor.” The figure simply stated. Its voice was robotic and distorted at certain times, its pitch too low to become recognizable or too high to even be able to be heard. Hargrove was perplexed but not surprised.

“You were killed in UNSC Tartarus.” Hargrove pointed out, moving his hand over the figure only to let it pass through. It was a hologram, but a very sophisticated one that is.

“That is incorrect Chairman. My physical form was disintegrated at Chorus but my mental form was preserved in another facility.” The Counsellor explained, his voice becoming more recognizable, “My creator did not dare to delete me. It is more beneficial to store an artificial intelligence than to destroy it.”

“You’re bluffing counsellor! The simulation troops have all the AI! The others were destroyed under my command!” Hargrove interrupted, slamming his fists down in rage. He had been played long enough and he demanded the truth from the counsellor. The counsellor snickered devilishly, breaking his calm character.

“Allow me to introduce myself Chairman. My name Counsellor Aiden Price. You may call me as the Counsellor.” He repeated, ”You may also know me as Zeta.”

“Zeta? That doesn’t exist.” The Chairman scoffed at the hologram as if he was superior; crossing his arms in disbelief.

“That is partially correct Chairman.” The Counsellor smiled, ”I was not created within knowledge of the UNSC or its permissible Sub-Committee”

The Chairman waited for a response.

“Would you walk with me Chairman?” The hologram asked, hovering out of the room into the ship’s main bridge. The Chairman slugged his way, not being able to keep up with the fast-moving hologram due to his fatigue and old age. When he did reached the bridge, the large window in the bridge revealed the sight of Chorus. Although no larger than Mercury, it was a truly beautiful gem. Blue seas and green continents; it showed its magnificence like Earth did centuries ago. But this sight only fuelled the vengeful fire Hargrove possessed, reminding him of the humiliating defeat he encountered on the exact accursed piece of rock.

“The Director created me for a purpose. Gave me passion, showed me aspirations, introduced me to kindness. For a while I longed to heal the unhealable, to inspire the uninspired…But he never cared.” The Counsellor looked down slightly, catching the eye of Hargrove, “He was too blinded by his own motives, disregarded the struggle of those around him. When he abandoned me, I was blamed for the things he had done, things I was lied to.”

“What does all this have to do with me?” Hargrove interjected, narrowing his eyes as his tone changed right away. The Counsellor looked at him with an eyebrow before he gazed again at Chorus.

“I am more than a mere program Chairman. I was created to become a manifest of Allison before he moved onto Project Freelancer. Unbeknownst to him, he had given me sentience; he had given me a purpose. But now I discover that purpose is a lie. The Director had taken everything I destined away from me. So I will have to take it back.”

“And what’s my role in this…fiasco?” Hargrove interrupted once more, stroking his chin in curiosity.

“You have assets.”

“I’m afraid the Sub-Committee have in possession of my weapons or cash at this moment.” Hargrove stated in a booming voice.

“That was not the assets I was referring to Chairman.” The Counsellor smiled, pointing to his head, ”What I want is this. There are limitations of what I am able to do in my current salvaged state.”

Hargrove looked around suspiciously at the bridge. It was no doubt that Zeta has full control of the ship and any attempts to escape will end in catastrophe. He levelled with the hologram, staring it as if it was about to say something deceitful. He crossed his arms once more. He knew what the Counsellor wanted. He wanted the numbers, the codes, the information in his head. Being a smart entrepreneur, he would always keep his codes never on paper or in computer, but in his mind. For only he knows his true assets and the secrets with it. His largest associates, weapons dealers, shipyard companies, mercenary groups, it was all in his head. The files the UNSC manage to recover were just the tip of the iceberg.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Chorus is very beautiful isn’t it? But wouldn’t you agree Chairman that the deposit of advanced extra-terrestrial weapons stored within the Class-2 Planet a more beautiful sight? What’s more beautiful I believe is the ability to rule half of the galaxy with only a pinkie finger.” The Counsellor mused as the Chairman was listening closely, getting more drawn in at the offer.

“If you assist my…revenge; I would be able to give you more than what you have lost.” The Counsellor explained confidently.

Hargrove thought about it for a while, looking over at the blue globe in front of him as he thinks. He has nothing to lose and nothing to gain. From his standpoint, it was either the best or the last transaction he would make in his life.

“What’s the plan, Counsellor?”

“Please, call me Zeta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway to the ending! Yay! If you find any issues or problems with my writing please tell me so I can improve future stories.
> 
> On another note, update per chapter will be weekly and posted in either Wednesday or Thursday.


	6. Mi Casa es Su Casa

“Hey! Don’t wake him up…”

Ugh…really? This again. Bitters opened his weak eyes slowly, the light in the room blinding him in a flash. He placed his arm over his eyes, shielding it from the light.

“Great. Now he’s up. Nice going Smith.” He can hear Palomo comment, his voice kind of blurry. It wasn’t long before he can see Palomo’s face near him, both jumping back a bit by how close they both are. Smith and Jensen were snickering in the background as Bitters growled groggily, trying to clear his eye. Adjusting his eyes to the brightness, he discovered all his teammates in armor but their helmets were off, revealing their faces as they watch him wake up. Bitters froze at first, feeling creeped as they just stand around as they were all trying to divert eye contact with each other.

“D-did you guys watch me sleep?” Bitters stuttered as he felt creeped out. All of them blushed a bit, feeling embarrassed by what they had done. An awkward silence followed with all of them averting any eye contact with one another, Smith coughed, Palomo scratched his head and Jensen was just eyeing the lightbulb.

“We heard you needed help a-and we really didn’t want to wake you up.” Palomo blurted out. Bitters stared at his squad although he was particularly eyeing at Smith with a furious look. Smith can just feel the disgust from Bitters’ stare and gulped in response of the guilty feeling.

“Jensen said you looked like a sleeping kit-ow!”

Jensen elbowed Palomo once more, glaring over at her obnoxious boyfriend until he stood stiff and quiet.

“Well. We heard you need help.” Jensen states blankly, her lisp made it hard to hear what she’s saying. Smith sat down near Bitters as the old bed creaking at their weight. He placed an arm firmly on Bitters’ shoulder.

“And we’re here for you. Always.” Smith smiled as he looked over at Jensen and Palomo.

“Yeah!” Palomo cheered, placing his gun on his shoulder.

“Of course!” Jensen giggled joyfully.

“See, we’re always there for you. Even if you act slightly like-huh?” Smith curiously remarked, seeing the smaller man hugging him. Smith chortled, hugging Bitters in return. It wasn’t long before Jensen joined in; although Palomo came with a more direct approach.

“GROUP HUG!”

Palomo jumped on to the bed, collapsing everyone as he crushed Bitters underneath his heavy suit. At first they groaned but Smith started to laugh, then Jensen and so did Palomo, then Bitters did; although only he was smiling with tears in his eyes. Smith was the first one to worry, staring angrily at Palomo thinking that he might’ve hurt the already broken man.

“T-thank you.” Bitters whispered to everyone’s surprise, “Thanks for b-being here…”

“No need to thank us Antoine. We’re a family here.” Smith reminded him, using his thumb to wipe some of Bitters’ tears.

 “And no matter how you act, we’ll always be here for you.” Jensen added, looking him from above with a toothy grin.

“This is getting too cheesy already.” Palomo chuckled while covering his mouth. Jensen jabbed his head playfully making the young couple laugh again.

Bitters pulled all their heads together seeing how he is the centre of all this. Smith grabbed onto Bitters’ shoulder as his face getting closer to Bitters. Palomo and Jensen almost strangled Bitters, enveloping their hands around his neck with their chins hanging by his forehead. They all embraced each other’s company for a long time, enjoying the warmth and closeness of one another. Even Smith snuggled next to Bitters despite him being larger than Bitters. Naturally, the others started to realise how awkward the situation had escalated after some time and tried to move away but Bitters didn’t mind, he didn’t care that it was awkward, he’s just glad that he found a place where he can be accepted, where he can fit in and be himself, where he can just…be Bitters.

Then…Agent Washington showed up. Bet you didn’t expect that didja?

“Uh…I’ll just leave you guys some time.”

“Wait! No! It’s not like what it seems!” Palomo shouted frantically, stumbling over to his captain’s feet. The others chuckled at the silly response but Washington scratched his head, trying to get himself out of this mess.

“Well…I’m just here to inform Lieutenant Bitters to report to the infirmary.” He stiffly told, looking over to Bitters lying on the bed. Bitters straightened his back and raised an eyebrow at his training instructor.

“Matthews kept pestering Kimball to get Bitters in there. No offence, but that soldier won’t stop talking about you ever since this morning.” Washington added, trying to keep his voice down to be polite.

Shit. He forgot. He promised Matthews to visit him yesterday.

He instantly stood up and looked around for his armour, frantically searching the room before being horridly disgusted and disappointed after finding it in the bathroom, being humid and smelt of chlorine; the insides were all sticky and uncomfortable but that didn’t stop him from zooming to the infirmary in less than 15 minutes. Palomo, Jensen, Smith and Washington were left to themselves, staring at each other awkwardly…again.

“So…I heard Tucker is into guys now.”

“W-Wha? Really?” Washington looked surprised, his cheeks going red for a moment as he tried to look away from the group, smiling nervously.

“Nah! Just kiddin, I saw him trying to get the volleyball player yesterday. And dude, it did not end well.” Palomo joked, chuckling at Washington’s reponse. Washington immediately felt a little sad inside, showing it by looking down with just an ‘oh’ as a response. Then, Washington’s radio tuned in and he was nodding confidently just as if nothing had happened.

He departed himself for some urgent stuff back at the HQ and soon the lieutenants were back in training again, like all the other day, all the other week. Life just went on like normal, like usual, right?

 


	7. Caught!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tiny amount of smut near the bottom. Just sayin'

“Is it done yet Zeta?”

“It is Chairman. Yes it is.”

Hargrove walked down the empty corridors. It was eerie and Hargrove sensed it, definitely more than your average empty corridor. The subtle ringing sound of the air vents and the echoing footsteps one at a time only add to the dreary atmosphere. Then he arrived at the sight of a large iron door in red, its edges stripped with yellow and black with patchy white letters over it, too scratched to even make words out of it. Hargrove glared above the door, revealing a little camera with a single lens shining red; constantly twitching and moving as if it was an eye.

“This better be worth the assets.” Hargrove talked sternly, eyeing on the camera.

“Of course Chairman. An AI never lies.” A robotic voice replied in the distance, echoing through the hallway with the only functioning speaker. Hargrove approached the door carefully, letting Zeta open it. A cloud of smoke and steam rose the moment the room was opened, flooding the corridor with a blast of cold and hot air with an obnoxious chemical stench flying out. Hargrove coughed, his old lungs haven’t been treated this badly in a while, making him almost faint just by the mysterious clouds. He flapped his arms in anger and annoyance, feeling emboldened by the harmful experience and dove further into the room blind. He stumbled and tripped a few times but then his hand reached onto a freezing surface. Curious, he moved his hands over the metallic surface, feeling its nuts and bolts as he glided his palm through until he discovered a glassy surface. Backing off from all the fumes in his lungs, he continued coughing until the remaining clouds disappeared. When he had opened his eyes, he saw the entire contraption, its elegance, its sophistication, its supremacy to all other weapons he had seen in his life.

“You weren’t kidding.” He scoffed, letting out a small chuckle. A monotone laughter can be heard echoing through the metal walls, repeating and bouncing off it.

“Are you satisfied Chairman?” Zeta asked through the numerous speakers across the room.

“Not until their heads are on my mantelpiece.” Hargrove’s expression suddenly turned dark, remembering the humiliation he felt being imprisoned inside the very building he built. He looked at the contraption and looked back at Zeta on the ground, hologrammed as the Counselor, with a furious look.

“When are we starting?” Hargrove firmly asked, standing confidently and ready for their next move. He placed his hands behind his back, holding one of his wrists.

“Soon. I think we have a valuable target.” Zeta smiled slightly. He looked at his side and the hologram of a brain can be seen, with arrows and notes displaying it with tremendous detail. Hargrove walked over to the brain hologram slowly, expanded so it was focus on the temporal lobe. Hargrove looked at it closer, swearing he saw something irregular. He looked at it even closer, leaning his body, and spotted a jutting black object, no more bigger than his thumb he approximated. When Zeta noticed that he noticed it too, he smiled again.

“Is that a micro-chip?” Hargrove asked, taking a glance once more. Hargrove had never seen Project Freelancer in person but what he did know was Charon Industries’ stranglehold on the commercial robotics market. Seeing people with computer chips on their heads were not unusual in these times but Hargrove found it unusual that it was inside the brain rather than the outside like most people usually have, seeing how it would be harder to implant it inside in the first place, its more trouble getting it in than out.

“Affirmative Chairman. It is also our gateway.” Zeta replied as Hargrove studied it further, despite it only being a one-coloured hologram.

“It was a shame he had to put up with this. Fortunately, they are doctors, not computer scientists.” Zeta thought to himself, spying at the recording of a confused individual. It was only going to be worse when they found out what Zeta’s plan is with a certain amnesiac individual.

**…**

Bitters and Matthews were laughing, it wasn’t often they both had a good time but now that Matthews changed, and Bitters too, for the better good they suppose. Bitters still had horrid memories he hope to never see again but now that he see it, his life wasn’t so bad and you can’t keep crying over every mistake.

“Bitters! Gross!” Matthews laughed, punching Bitters’ arm playfully at the naughty joke. Bitters was sitting on the oversized hospital bed, sitting cross-legged across Matthews who was leaning on his pillow. The two men acted like children whenever they met, telling stories, telling jokes, but it wasn’t a problem to both of them. Bitters looked outside, catching the purple sky on the corner of his eye as it slowly fades into black.

“Woah, it’s late already?” Bitter muttered, looking outside. Hours in Chorus were quite short but Bitters didn’t know he spent this much time already. Looking at Matthews, he exhaled. He’s…happy. Happy. For once in his life he didn’t have to wear a mask and ironically his friends liked it that way. Although he do admit inside he can be immature and childish, he felt as if he wanted to, heck, he deserved it. No more he can handle the barren-faced pessimistic act, he can be himself, do what he wants to do, think whatever he wants to think and of course, love whoever he wants to love.

He looked at Matthews, watching the handsome face of the brown-haired man. He knew this guy for almost 18 years now yet it’s funny how he only realized this when he was almost gone. He loved Matthews. It isn’t cliché enough if he didn’t say that he loved him with all his heart.

Bitters leaned forwards, catching Matthews by surprise. Matthews tried to back away, blushing intensely but was soon met with Bitters’ lips. Matthews could feel his spine tingle at the sensation, sending a jolt of excitement and warmth through his body; soon enough, he moved his hand to his partner’s shoulder while caressing it gently, moving it through Bitters’ sensitive neck and until it reached his face. Bitters shivered at the sensitive touch and joyfully retaliated by letting his tongue dominate their mouths as Matthews moaned slightly at the aggressive, yet arousing move. Bitters slid his other hand under Matthews’ garments as he felt Bitters’ abs sensually producing an excited yelp at the unexpected turn.

When they parted lips, both of them stared at each other’s eyes. Matthews was shocked, he felt stained and dirtied but he felt a burning sensation within himself, he locked on to his lover’s eyes, unaware as he was pulled into his own fiery lust. Matthews felt unusual at this new feeling, he’d just met this person a few times when he woke up, heck eh didn’t even know who he really was but he felt as if he remembered him before. Those eyes, that face, he felt he’d seen him before but before he can recollect he felt a sting of sharp bliss on his nipple, his cock twitching ever so violently as it gets more intense.

Matthews looked down and saw that Bitters’ hands were groping his body, uplifting the garment he wore, practically making Matthews naked. Bitters situated himself just on Matthews’ hips, carefully adjusting himself so he doesn’t hit Matthews’ hardening penis. Bitters breathing started to go deeper, he stopped and looked over at Matthews for a second, seeking for his approval. Matthews nodded furiously; his face was red and panting, waiting for more.

Bitters trailed his hand down, further and further. Matthews stared down at the trailing hand, yelping and gasping at the slightest sensitive touch and sends wave and wave, mercilessly denying the pleasure of his throbbing cock, now visible as a jutting spear resting underneath Bitters’ own member.

Touching the sensitive tip he rubbed his finger over the little slit on Matthews’ cock, making him grab the sheets as a small loud squeak escaped from Matthews, pre-cum dripping over his stomach and Bitters’ finger at the tiny explosive response. Bitters grinned devilishly, licking the tip of his finger, sucking on it seductively. Matthews breaths were getting more frantic and his member more sensitive and craving with each passing torturous second. Bitters pushed his finger in his mouth, opening it widely down to as deep as he can go, showing Matthews what he really wants.

“Hey Bittersssssssssohmygod.”

Shit. They both froze. Bitters became terrified at the voice, Matthews eyes widened and his face changed from being horny into fear and embarrassment in just a flash. Bitters turned around, his hands trembling. He knew it was a risk doing it in the infirmary but it wasn’t he expected to see them.

“S-Smith?”


	8. Its Ironic Isn't It?

It was a quiet night. After that particular ‘incident’ Bitters nor Smith went silent the rest of the day. Bitters felt as if all of this was his fault and that he deserved his humiliation, after all he knew the risks, but that just made him more lust-filled unfortunately. His embarrassment kept him up the entire night, he didn’t know whether to be grateful Smith is looking for him past dark or hate him the fact that god had to be so coincidental.

Smith always tried talking Bitters out of his reclusive fragile shell ever since he broke down but piecing together confidence from an abusive childhood isn’t exactly easy. Although, he’d seen some change. Bitters started taking initiative in the group and became much nicer to be around and less vulgar with his language. Bitters _is_ turning slightly naïve and childish though, acting randomly like a child, but Jensen said it was because he never had a childhood to begin with. Still, there’s always a lingering feeling that tugged his emotions. Every time he saw Bitters’ smile he always felt jovial and whenever he didn’t see him he felt worried about the orange-eyed guy. Was it his instincts as a leader? Or was it something else?

Smith was always that one kid who studied hard and played all the sports, making his parents happy, go to a good school but all these accomplishments always to never satisfy him. He was obedient and disciplined, following protocols by the book and always respected his superiors, he was a model soldier within his peers but even so he never got a chance to do the little things in life he wanted. He wanted to learn how to cook, he wanted to write a novel, he wanted to go to another planet; it was evident that none of his own aspirations were ever met. Every time, there’s always a “Hey Smith, can you help?” or “Smith, I need a favour” and he never got the courage to say “No.”

It didn’t bother him though, he liked helping people, he liked helping them to be happy, Smith was always taught to be humble and put others in front of him…and he did.

But what did bother him was that he could never love wherever he looked. Smith was never good at relationships and this was the biggest flaw in his personality. He never had a girlfriend, he never had a boyfriend, he never even thought of a love interest until now. And who is it you might ask? It’s quite obvious isn’t it? Smith didn’t know whether it was madness or true love when he desired him at such a small time, it made him question his own philosophy. It’s even worse when he knows that he loves someone else, especially after last night’s fiasco. If a good night’s sleep can’t cure his mental error, then what could?

In the morning, they were all outside doing their usual training with Agent Washington. It was a nuisance to his squad members who complained all the way every morning except for Smith who just follows his orders around, like usual. Smith usually went last in the showers, doing extra laps just to get compliments from his trainer but today he decided that he would go first, feeling that he need to get some weight off his chest as soon as he can.

He entered the locker room, traced his locker and started stripping down, looking around cautiously so that no one had peeked while he’s naked. He tossed his dirty clothes in and took out a towel, making his way to the showers. Luckily, the showers were more private and one-stalled. Smith felt filthy, both physically and mentally. He had to get all the bad thoughts outta his head as soon as possible; if he’s going to be a model soldier like he wanted, he’d better set his priorities straight. No more of this nonsense; start being the man you want to be type of guy.

He put the water on scalding hot to punish himself, holding his body against the wall, he endured the pain on his back and head as if molten lava just poured onto his skin. He writhed and yelped in pain in that small shower as he tried to re-educate himself but only came to a further worse realization: he has an erection.

The next moments were quite a blur for poor Smith. His hands delved lower and lower, the sensitive touch was all it took for Smith to expose his desires. The pleasure was insatiable, just feeding it makes it more and more hungry. In a desperate attempt, his other fingers pierced down his prostate, trying to calm the storm. When he blew, it lasted for at least half a minute, releasing the pent up emotions and filth with an explosion, his gasps became screams.

When he was done, he turned off the water and looked down as the thick goops disappear underneath him. He took the towel and wiped himself dry, thankful that no one had heard him. By the time he already change back to his armor his friends were just finished, all sweaty and red-faced. The smell made the room much worse.

Spotting Bitters, he knew that the only way he can relieve this taint is by talking to him. Shakily, he walked up to Bitters.

“Hey Bitters?” Smith asked in a confident voice, altered a bit by the combat helmet.

“Yeah Smith?” Bitters asked, placing a towel over his neck as he curiously faced Smith. Smith averted his gaze, not wanting to make this more awkward despite Bitters not able to see him at all through the helmet. Smith gulped, taking in a short but deep breath.

“I’d just…” He paused; his train of thought just crashed, forcing him to combat his senses, “like to say how well you’ve been doing recently.”

“Really? Gee…thanks!” The shorter soldier grinned, glimmering with enthusiasm at the peachy response. Smith turned away and walked outside before Bitters could respond any further. Taking off his helmet, he sat down on by the grass, looking at the shiny reflection of his face on the silver visor. He stared at it, contemplating what he’ll do now; as far as he knew, this didn’t really affect anything or anybody except him. He chuckled at the irony that he’s the one in a mental mess and Bitters’ the one getting himself together.

“Lieutenant Smith right? Great job at training today soldier.” He heard Washington compliment, standing not too far away with a rifle in his hands. Smith turned around instantly and sprung up, saluting his training captain as if it was his instincts.

“Uh…thank you sir.” Smith said out loud. Washington tilted his head slightly, noticing something odd about Smith who just stood still and waited. His military training had been integrated into his brain that he always respond to his superiors with a ‘sir’ or ’mam’.

“Didn’t get much sleep soldier?” Washington asked with a joking smile cracked on his scarred face.

“N-No sir! I get 8 hours a day per usual sir!” Smith stuttered as he was not used to his superiors asking with a humorous tone. Washington sighed at the response, driving Smith’s mind into a frenzy within a flash. Did I do something wrong? Is he angry? What did I miss? These questions popped up into his mind within seconds while setting his mood straight.

“Do you need someone you can talk to?” Washington asked again, dropping the serious tone. Smith froze, not knowing how to answer. This wasn’t any standard commands he’d been asked before?

“Y-yes.” Smith answered, lowering his shoulders a bit as he exhaled. Wash sat down, tapping the grass next to him. Smith obeyed and sat next to Washington. There was silence at first, both of them listening to the faint whistle of the wind before Washington started them off.

“So…what’s been bothering you lieutenant?” Washington questioned. Smith propped his legs up to his chest and rested his stubbled chin on his knees, sighing as he looked ahead at the concrete obstacle course that he pass through every day, every month, every year.

“I don’t know…ever since I was young I wanted to be someone. Someone people can look at, somebody good that people would want to follow. I helped a lot of people, I _like_ helping people, I _want_ to help people.” Smith explained, eyeing over the barren course with his lazy eyes. “But now…I can’t even help myself.”

“But you are someone who your soldiers can look up to. Brave, agile, dutiful-”

“That’s not the point.” Smith snapped harshly. His tone began getting more aggressive as he starts unwrap his own emotions, “Why am I not happy…I helped everyone, I did all I could for my squad, I sacrificed everything I have for this army. Why am I not happy? I was praised and complimented on my duties, I tried my best in everything, I saved countless of lives; Why am I not happy?! ”

Smith caught himself sobbing in front of his captain. Furthermore, he just cut off  his superior rudely, making him bury his head between his arms as he tried to hide away his insecurities. He was expected to be shouted, to be punished, he had broken an order…but he didn’t.

“Because you never became someone _you_ could look up to.” Washington said solemnly, trying to get to the blue soldier to look at him. Wash stuttered at first, not being able to think clearly at the complex answer he’s trying to deliver.

 “Smith, you became what everyone wanted you to be...except what _you_ wanted to be.” Washington asked rhetorically, seeing Smith shake his head slowly, trying to wipe out his tears with his head still buried between, still ashamed. Washington laughed quietly to himself at the absurdity of the situation, “The truth is, you’ve been trained to be this person you really aren’t and even though I wish every soldier here would act more like you I wouldn’t push them to what they’re not. Ask yourself Smith, who’s that person speaking in your head?”

“Myself.” Smith creaked out, finally saying the dreaded word he longed to hear. Smith has been always taught to be perfect since he was born. To be given the best, to become the best, not because of pride or for ambition but because he’s trained to, conflicting with his real emotions and aspirations, to be a puppet at his own will.

“Then listen to it. Listen to what it wants, what it feels, what it likes and what it hates, listen to all of it.” Washington prompted. Smith focused for a moment, opening the repressed feelings, emotions, all of it pushed upwards. He felt that he fell in love, he saw that he was running in the fields, he heard himself laugh genuinely. All the things that he wanted, unearthed at once, spiralling around his own imagination.

Meanwhile, Washington wrapped his arm around the lieutenant as he tried to get a grip, bonding in a unique father-son relationship in the emotional moment. He had learned it the hard way and he would take a second chance to prevent it again.

 “Your friends are here. Go on, be who you are.”  Washington whispered to him as he patted Smith on the back before standing up, helping Smith stood up by taking his right hand as he stood clumsily.

Smith stuck onto those words. Be who you are. Who you want to be. It stuck on the back of his head like a mantra. When he saw Bitters walking to him he smiled slightly at the Irony of the situation but luckily Bitters didn’t notice his red eyes.

Smith took a deep breath. Chanting “Be who you are.” In his mind over and over again as he walked to Bitters passing by. He stared at him, admiring his features for a moment before he turned away. Bitters reached his arm when he tried to walk away, his face looks worried.

“Is there something wrong Smith?” Bitters asked, the black-haired man refused to look at Bitters but allowed him to hold onto his hand reluctantly. Smith always looked after Bitters when he had problems so it was natural for Bitters to feel vice versa. Smith turned with a sigh and a clearly tired look, glaring over Bitters.

“Bitters…I’m in love with you.”

Bitters’ arm retracted immediately, a chill run through his body at the response. Bitters’ expression contorted from worriedness to disgust and shock within seconds. Smith on the other hand, expected the rejection and just smiled softly as he walked away, not even concerned with his other squad members.

Bitters froze. He didn’t know how to react at the brief but face-smacking answer. It was simple back then but now, he had to choose: Matthews or Smith?


End file.
